Adamastor holds a special place in my game designer’s heart. It was the first game I ever designed (at least the first one I actually finished), which I proudly released as a free print & play on BGG in 2017. It survived the test of time — much like a well-worn board game that’s seen one too many spills — appearing on several “recommended print & play” lists and actually getting some love.
Fast forward to now: A completely revamped edition of Adamastor will be released by Ludonova around October 2025 — but let’s not jump ahead of the story. We’ve got a lot to unpack, so let’s rewind to the beginning.
In 2016, during the delightful haze of sleep deprivation that only a firstborn can bring, I decided it was finally time to finish a game design. You see, I’d been “designing” games since I first discovered modern board games in 2012, but as you can probably guess, my early creations were, shall we say, questionable. Picture this: worse versions of classic games, concepts that fell apart after one playtest, and mechanisms that were as solid as a wet noodle.
In other words, my game design efforts were a disaster. After a few years of botched attempts, I did what any reasonable person would do: I put game design on the back burner and became a professional game player instead.
By then, I had realized that the best way to design games was to first play a ton of them and learn from the masters, so off I went, embarking on a quest to play all the things. I even started a YouTube channel to review games. Turns out, I was an even worse content creator than I was a designer (I can only assume my camera skills were on par with my gameplay) and the channel quickly fizzled out.
But during that brief stint, all the reflections I had while reviewing games, coupled with years of soaking up game knowledge, made me think, maybe, just maybe, it was time to give game design another shot.
So in 2016, I finally decided to design Adamastor. My goal? To create a game that used just a single deck of 54 cards and a few pieces. Why? Because I was convinced that, let’s face it, the game was probably going to suck — and I wasn’t about to scam anyone into paying for it. Why not make it a free print & play? At least that way, people would be out only ink and paper if things went south.
To make the design work, I knew the cards had to serve multiple purposes. Efficiency was key, especially with only 54 cards to work with. I also had a clear vision: a solo exploration game in which the tone gradually grew darker as you progressed, the kind of game that starts off nice and relaxed, with everyone enjoying mojitos on the deck, only for you to eventually find yourself dying just as land comes into view — which, by the way, can happen in the game…except for the mojitos.
Image: @BulldogBite
Taking all of that into account, the game was built around a series of map cards that you had to sail through to reach the end destination (or die trying). Alongside that was a large deck of multi-use cards representing the crew’s morale. Each round, you’d draw cards from this deck. The combination of weather icons on the cards in play would decide the weather for the round because, of course, the weather has to ruin your day, too. Depending on what Mother Nature decides, the weather would affect how many actions you could take that round. If you’re lucky, you get a sunny day; if not, well, you could find yourself in the middle of a storm.
Every action in the game required spending or manipulating these cards to avoid worse consequences or even worse weather, and each round, you’d watch the deck slowly deplete. When no more cards were left — when morale hit rock bottom — you lost the game.
Pero, claro, ¿por qué no hacerlo aún más sombrío? Después de todo, navegar en la Era de los Descubrimientos difícilmente era unas vacaciones relajantes. Añadí mecanismos extra para aumentar la urgencia y reforzar la sensación de que todo estaba destinado a empeorar. Al final de cada ronda, debías descartar una carta en juego, que generalmente se convertía en un pequeño trauma colectivo para ti y tu tripulación. Nada dice “diversión” como el sufrimiento compartido, ¿verdad?
Además, había que comprobar si ciertos eventos (casi todos desastrosos) se activaban según la combinación de íconos y traumas. Si tenías “suerte”, podías provocar un motín —lo que significaba perder instantáneamente—. Pero, al menos, no tenías que esperar mucho para saber si todo se iba a desmoronar.
Sí, la versión print & play de Adamastor era dura e implacable, pero al parecer a la gente le gustaba un poco de dolor autoinfligido, porque fue bien recibida en la comunidad. Supongo que disfrutaban el desafío… o simplemente el sentimiento de fatalidad inminente.
Image: Michał Jagodziński
But hey, why not make it even grimmer? After all, sailing in the Age of Discoveries was hardly a relaxing vacation. I threw in extra mechanisms to pile on the urgency and drive home the feeling that things were destined to go from bad to worse. At the end of each round, you’d discard one of the cards in play, which would usually transform into a nice little collective trauma for you and your crew. Nothing says “fun” like shared suffering, right?
On top of that, you’d have to check whether certain events (almost all of them catastrophically bad) triggered based on the combination of icons and traumas. If you’re really lucky, you’d hit the “riot” event — which meant you lost the game instantly. But hey, at least you didn’t have to wait long to find out whether it was all going to fall apart.
So, yes, the print & play version of Adamastor was tough and unforgiving, but apparently people were into a little self-inflicted pain because it was well-received in the print & play community. Guess they liked the challenge…or maybe they just enjoyed the feeling of impending doom.
We didn’t exactly make it easier, though. The core mechanisms are as brutal as ever, and the punishment is still there, but now the game has a much stronger narrative. Things happen when you visit islands or have encounters at sea. Speaking of encounters, we’ve added an entire new deck of them filled with adventures (you can see it on the left of the map cards), some of which have lasting consequences that’ll haunt you for the entire game (or the whole campaign).
We’ve expanded the Adamastor universe in ways I never thought possible when I first designed the game in 2016, which is why I’m so excited to see this revamped version finally reach the hands of those who already braved the original — and, of course, the many people who’ve never heard of it (which, let’s face it, probably makes up most of the people reading this diary).
And so, after years of work, reworks, and probably a few too many cups of coffee, I’m thrilled to finally see Adamastor evolve into something I’m truly proud of. May the winds be in your favor and try not to die on that beach.
Cheers,
Orlando Sá
